


How Dorothy Saved The Scarecrow

by themonstersweaknesses



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 17:58:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1356721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themonstersweaknesses/pseuds/themonstersweaknesses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Father's Day, Rose and the Doctor read her favorite childhood story to help her forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Dorothy Saved The Scarecrow

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Doctor Who.

Rose spent plenty of time in the TARDIS library, but not so much time reading. Not unless she wanted to forget, and today was one she definitely wanted out of her mind. Not only had she seen her father die, not once, but twice, but she had also witnessed the Doctor— her Doctor –- ripped from her. Stolen from before her eyes and she was helpless in the situation, unable to do anything to stop the reaper or bring him back once he had been consumed.

She shuddered at the memory, her subtle movement bringing her back to the library where she stood perusing the shelves. She ran one hand over the worn book spines in front of her while the other brushed blonde wisps out of her eyes, red and swollen from crying. Her outstretched hand finally came to rest on a volume with an aged, but still undeniably green book jacket. She pulled the book slowly from the heavy, oak shelf; a sad half-smile crossed her face as she took in the cover of The Wizard of Oz.

She padded across the quiet library, her bare feet pressing softly into the thick rug, to settle into one of the upholstered couches, her blonde crown resting on one of the padded arms. Warmed by the comfortable heat of the fire in the stone fireplace that cast a warm glow over the room, she tried desperately to get lost in the familiar story. Despite her efforts, she couldn’t make herself focus on her favorite childhood story without thinking about her mother, and in turn, drowning in sorrow over her father.

Just when she was about to discard her book, make some tea, and maybe take a nap, she heard a tentative knock at the library door behind her. “Rose?” she heard his Northern burr ask shyly. “Can… can I come in?”

She sighed, not sure if she wanted his company, but definitely not wanting to turn him away. “Yeah. Yeah, come in,” she replied eventually. Almost instantly, the heavy wooden door opened slightly, a crack just wide enough for him to peer through. Instead of sitting up and turning to face the door, Rose had tilted her head back until she was leaning over the arm of the couch, looking at him upside down. As soon as his ice blue eyes took in her puffy ones and tearstained cheeks, his face crumpled into worry, his brow furrowed, his eyes darkened. Before she knew what was happening, he pushed into the library, making his way to her determinedly, as though he was worried if he didn’t hurry he would lose his nerve. As he reached the couch, she sat up, watching him stop in front of her, obviously hesitant, not knowing what to do next. “What are you reading?” he asked after a slightly awkward pause.

“The Wizard of Oz,” she replied, glancing down at the open book in her lap. “It was my favorite book to read as a kid. My mum would read it to me before I went to bed sometimes. She would always tell me how the scarecrow reminded her of…” her voice trailed off, clearly upset. “Well he reminded her of my dad,” she finished.

The Doctor had a sudden desire to hold his human companion, to wrap his pink and yellow ape in his leather-clad arms and keep her safe for all eternity. Before he could talk himself out of it, he sat down on the couch beside her, reaching out and taking her small hands in his larger ones. “Yes,” he began, “about that, Rose, I… I am so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.” His voice broke and he dropped his gaze to their clasped hands “I should have never put you in that position. I’m sorry.”

“No,” she shook her head softly. When he didn’t look up at her, she freed one of her hands from his and lifted his chin so that they were face to face. “Don’t say that. I asked for you to take me there. I asked to be put into that situation. It’s not your fault. You shouldn’t blame yourself,” she spoke calmly, even with tears threatening to spill.

The Doctor nodded slowly, closing his eyes. When he opened them a moment later, the darkness that had stained them before had lifted slightly, making him look almost himself again. “I should go,” he said, dropping her hands almost too quickly. “Don’t want to keep you from your reading.” He gave her a small smile as he rose to his feet.

“Wait,” she called out, her hand catching his sleeve, urgent but somehow also soft. “Stay,” Rose said in a hushed tone. “Please. Please stay.”

He looked a little shaken, surprised by her request, glancing briefly to the library door before giving her one of his smiles, wide and happy, crinkling the corners of his eyes and creasing the sides of his face. As the Doctor returned to his seat on the couch, he pulled her into her arms in a warm embrace. She giggled despite herself as she leaned forward, pressing him back, his arms still around her, until they were both lying down. He had his head propped on the arm of the couch, while hers rested comfortably on his chest. One of his arms was wrapped protectively around her shoulders as she passed him the green jacketed book that she still held safely in her hand.

“Read to me?” Rose asked, looking up at her Doctor from her place beside him, the tears gone from her eyes. He nodded in response, chuckling lightheartedly as she smiled at him, her tongue poking out from between her teeth.

“Chapter one,” he began, his voice falling over her, thick and smooth and Northern. “The Cyclone. Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer’s wife.” She smiled, leaning further against him, one arm falling across his stomach as she listened to the familiar tale and breathed in the spicy, leather scent that was the Doctor.

The last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the Doctor pressing a warm kiss into her hair, followed by the words “Chapter three. How Dorothy saved the Scarecrow.”


End file.
